by Trevor Gregg
Kyren was caught off guard and failed to answer right away.
“This is Battlehand Grimlok, answer now you lowly puke!” one of the thevars flanking the urnak growled, shoving Kyren in the shoulder.
“We caught him spying on us, we did,” Alis spoke without delay, her voice guttural and harsh. “We were in PX788 scouting the Consortium outpost there, when we caught this scumbag following us.”
“Good, we will put the tacksss to thisss scum bathalian,” Grimlok replied. “Maybe we will learrrn, maybe we will jussst enjoy.”
While Grimlok led them deeper into the station Kyren memorized their route, creating a mental map. He wanted to be able to get back to the ship, and fast. They reached a junction and one of the thevars motioned.
“The dimak lair is that way,” it said harshly.
Alis hesitated a moment, then looked Kyren in the eye and turned away. Dammit, her eyes had spoken volumes, conveying her terror. But there wasn’t anything he could do, not without giving away their ruse.
Continuing on, Elarra waddling after them, they made their way to large closed door. Grimlok rapped heavily on the door with his large fist. The door rose up into the ceiling, revealing the darkened interior of a large room, a pool of light at its’ center illuminating a chair fitted with arm and leg restraints.
A hideous ushok came forward and grasped Tharox by the restraints, roughly dragging him into the room. Kyren felt yet another stab of apprehension as he watched the door close. They were getting separated. Elarra had assured him that they would be okay, but he couldn’t help but worry. Even about Tharox, he admitted to himself.
“While the prrrisssonerr iss being interrrogated, you may feed,” Grimlok said to them. “My lieutenantsss will lead you to the feeding chambersss.”
The thevars broke off from Grimlok and strode down the passage to the right. Kyren and Elarra followed. They made several twists and turns, then he glanced beside him. Elarra was gone. She must have activated the stealth belt and slipped away.
Their “mess hall” was unmistakable, the scent of blood hitting his nostrils as they approached. He rounded the corner and quietly stifled a gag. Dozens of thevars were scattered around, each one noisily consuming hunks of raw flesh. Blood slicked the scales around their mouths, bits of flesh stuck in their needle-sharp teeth.
“Come, feed with us, brother,” one of the thevars said, entering the room and motioning for him to follow.
Each step into the room was excruciatingly difficult. Every fiber of his being screamed “run!” but he knew he had to keep up the ruse.
The guard went over to a large bin and fished out several hunks of meat. “Tonight we have rillian,” it said, handing a hunk to Kyren.
Horror flooded him as he realized he was going to have to feed to keep up the ruse. His horror seemed to morph into another feeling, a strange one, although not entirely unfamiliar. It felt the same as when the katerwan had started to work, a tingly, poky feeling in his skin.
Looking down at his hands he saw great patches of scales sluffing away, leaving flesh beneath. Oh shit, the katerwan’s effect was ending. The other thevars had begun to turn toward him. Grimlok’s two guards stepped back in surprise. He felt his body tremble as the last of his lizard-face fell away.
He watched in terror as the thevars dropped the chunks of meat they were feeding on and began to reach for weapons. Rifles and pistols began to swing in his direction. He knew it was only a matter of seconds before a barrage of fire would cut him down.
Kyren’s hand flew to his belt, pushing the button to activate the teleporter. A circular portal opened in front of him and he dove through, not even looking where it led.
51
Vengeance
One of the ushok’s three arms reached out and grabbed Tharox by the cuffs, yanking him into the room. The door whooshed shut behind him, and he laughed.
“You’re very confident, aren’t you, mister ugly…” Tharox said with obvious venom. “What’re we up to here? Oh, I see, you’re the ugliest one, so you’re the torturer, eh?”
The creature spun him and shoved him backward toward the chair. The ushok’s strength was formidable, but it wasn’t going to save the creature.
“So you see, when I was given this opportunity, I took it. The chance to kill a large number of you scumbags… couldn’t pass it up.”
“Grrrbblaabbllaagglaaarrreeerrr,” it gurgled at him, the creature’s alien speech unintelligible.
It made itself clear when it pointed with one of its three arms, and punched him in the gut with the second and third. But Tharox wasn’t cowed. He began to struggle violently, thrashing around. They became locked in a dance for domination.
“You fuckers killed my family. Killing you won’t bring them back,” Tharox said through gritted teeth, grappling with the ushok. “But it’ll sure make me feel good.”
He stopped suddenly, his face close to the ushok’s hideous visage, its’ dome eye staring at him, pupil wide.
“Platypus,” he whispered.
The cuffs detached from his wrist, leaving the startled ushok clinging to the empty cuffs, its remaining two arms swinging up to defend itself. But it was too slow. Tharox’s hands shot out, wrapping around the creature’s spindly neck. He seized the ugly creature and wrenched, levering the vertebrae against each other.
It struggled, flailing blows falling ineffectually on his metal shoulders. Servos whined as he poured all of his considerable strength into the task. Finally there was a pop and the creature went limp.
He cast the monstrosity aside and began to search for a weapon. He found a torturer’s kit and chose a heavy hammer with a wicked clawed head. Creeping to the door, he hit the panel. To his surprise it opened.
Tharox knew this was a risky mission, but the little Oracle girl seemed confident they would be successful. He didn’t believe she could see the future, but he couldn’t deny it, either. The others sure seemed to believe. They had agreed to her plan without hesitation, knowing this would be a rare opportunity.
Tharox peered warily into the corridor but it was empty. He dashed out and down the corridor, choosing his direction at random. Knowing it could be a suicide mission, he had still accepted it. Isa hadn’t said much after he had agreed. He knew she was upset, and with good reason. But the Oracle assured them they would prevail. Tharox was determined to make it back to Isa, regardless.
Pausing, he listened to faint voices in the distance. Guttural rolling language grew louder as the speakers approached. Dodging behind the corner, he wound up with the hammer, claw end first.
The first Crevak, a scaly thevar, took the hammer through the forehead, bone crunching as bits of brain scattered. The accompanying dimak hesitated for a split second, which gave Tharox all the time he needed. Ripping the hammer free from the falling thevar, he reversed it and swung the blunt end into the dimak’s nose, shattering its’ face and spraying black blood all over.
Leaping back, the creature attempted to draw the pistol strapped to its’ thigh. Tharox took advantage of his opponents mistake and drove the claw end down into its’ hand. With his free hand he delivered a tremendous blow to the beast’s already ruined face.
The dimak let out an ear-shattering roar, its tail whipping out and wrapping around Tharox’s throat. His breath was choked off almost immediately. He struggled but the grip was too strong. His vision swam, dimming to a long gray tunnel. Shit! He had just let Isa down. He was going to die here.
Rage flooded him, powering a final surge of strength. He stopped trying to pry the tail from around his neck and instead grasped it firmly in both hands. He pivoted, swinging with all his might. The dimak was lifted off the ground, sent in a short sharp arc straight into the wall.
His vision had already faded to black but he heard a massive, wet, thwacking sound. He only hoped it was the dimak’s head, and not his own hitting the floor. The tail relaxed and he gasped for breath, struggling to take in enough air. His vision swam and his ears rang as he s
taggered to his feet. He took several moments to recover his equilibrium and then stooped to retrieve the Crevak’s weapons.
Tharox belted on several long knives and a laser pistol, then tucked an assault rifle to his shoulder. Listening, he could hear Crevak voices in the distance, moving closer. He figured they wouldn’t be expecting a frontal assault, so he took a deep breath and then charged around the corner.
The assault rifle was aimed at the first, a massive grendle, gray skin thick and leathery. But it couldn’t stand up to a face full of burning thermite rounds, armor piercing cores tearing through the hole left by the burning thermite. The rounds exited the back of the creature’s head and it started to fall.
He was already moving to the next target, an ugly ushok. The assault rifle barked a few more rounds and then the bolt locked open, magazine dry. Several rounds had taken the ushok in one of its three shoulders, nearly severing one of its three arms. The other two were attempting to bring a huge cannon to bear.
Dropping the rifle, he drew a wicked looking knife from his belt and lunged, driving the blade through one of the hands holding the cannon. The ushok screeched and dropped the cannon. Surprising Tharox, it slammed bodily into him, its three legs providing superior stability. Tharox was driven off balance, staggering backward.
It pressed the advantage, prying the knife that was lodged in its hand free. It slammed into him and drove him backward. He nearly retched as the ushok’s foul wraparound mouth came close to his face, dozens of short, sharp teeth gnashing at him as the mouth undulated.
The ushok brought the knife around and Tharox blocked with his cybernetic forearm, sparks flying as the blade was deflected. He drew the remaining knife from his belt and dodged backward, giving more ground and attempting to put some distance between him and his attacker.
Predictably, the ushok pushed the attack. Tharox led him into it, pretending to fall back. Instead he spun, dropping his knife and grabbing the ushok’s hand in one of his own. He drove his elbow down into the ushok’s, bending its arm. At the same time he applied pressure and drove the knife backwards toward it. He drove its own knife down into the great dome eye on the top of its head.
Letting out a gurgling cry, it fell to the deck, grasping at its ruined eye with the one remaining good limb. Tharox pulled his laser pistol and fired, finishing it off. Quickly scavenging more weapons, he bolted down the corridor toward the sound of even more voices.
52
End Him
Elarra waited until she passed a throng of Crevak before stepping into an alcove and activating her stealth belt. With a wince she reached up to the back of her neck and plucked out the katerwan. It fell to the floor as her body convulsed, layers of sickly brown flesh sloughing off of her.
She gasped for breath as the process finished, a pile of rapidly dissolving flesh at her feet. Waiting until the corridor was clear, she stepped out from the alcove and began to quietly pad down the hall. The corridors were made of strange deep blue metal, which was cool to the touch. Faint gold circuitry traced much of the walls and floor.
The ceiling was easily twelve feet tall, and the doorways were nearly so. The builders of this place were possibly larger than the average humanoid. Or maybe they just liked grandeur, it seemed. They must have also had better vision, as the diffuse orange lighting was in fact quite dim. No matter, the provenance of this alien relic wasn’t important now.
She paused, trying to refocus, but was having trouble concentrating. Realizing she was about to have a vision, she leaned against the wall and slid into a sitting position. She was just in time, it hit her and she lost her surroundings. Except that her new surroundings were exactly the same as her old. In her vision, she was aboard this station.
Her vision panned and she turned down a corridor, drawn inexorably forward by an unseen force. She traveled down several hallways until she reached a great concourse, several stories tall and a hundred yards wide. Far up the concourse she could see a cluster of beings, unmistakably raxi in their crimson jerkins. They were gathered in front of a large door, arrayed in a defensive perimeter.
Her vision returned to normal in time to see a pair of grendles bearing down on her. Tucking into a ball and cringing back into the wall, she narrowly avoided being stepped on. Why couldn’t her vision have shown her that? Oh well, at least she had seen something, and damn useful even.
As sure as her vision had shown, she encountered the wide causeway, and also as she had seen, the knot of raxi guarding a large door. Reaching down, she slipped her shoes off, setting them neatly side by side. Then she set out, moving slowly and silently, padding her way to the door. She threaded through the raxi as they bantered back and forth in their own harsh, clipped language.
Reaching the door, she paused. Was this really what she was meant to do? Her visions had shown her the station, and must have meant she would come here. Why else would she be here, if not for Darius. He was a traitor to their people. And he had tried to kill her, on more than one occasion even. Besides, it was him or her, and fate be damned it wasn’t going to be her.
She reached out to touch the door, true fear building in her chest. “Courage, Elarra,” she whispered to herself, and hit the panel.
The door slid open, revealing a small antechamber, the rest of the domicile hidden from view by a heavy purple drape. She stepped inside quickly, allowing the door to slide down behind her. Then another vision hit. But this time, as before, she was in the station. And she was standing where she was really standing. She realized she must be seeing things mere moments from now.
Striding forward confidently, she pushed aside the drape and stepped into the chamber beyond. She didn’t see it coming, but she felt it, a burning hot spear through her side. She twisted and Darius was there, a gleaming dagger slick with her own blood in his hands.
She snapped back and realized he was waiting for her. Dammit she should have realized that, invisible or not. She was going to get herself killed if she didn’t keep in mind Darius was going for the same thing. Bracing herself, she stepped through the curtain. Instead of continuing forward, though, she spun, grabbing a fold of the heavy drape and sweeping it to the side.
Darius’ dagger tangled in the cloth, ripping and tearing it as he tried to drive the blade into her spine. She spun again and stepped in, delivering a vicious elbow to his face. Blood flew as she smashed his nose. Darius gasped in pain and surprise, dropping the dagger and clawing at her belt as he fell backward. It broke free and she shimmered into view. He scurried backward, putting furniture between himself and her.
“Darius, why don’t you come back here and play?” Elarra growled.
“Elarra. I should’ve known you’d be different. What’s it like, surviving your visikaji? Was there anything to it, a tingle, trumpets sounding, the sun rising?” he replied, surprisingly earnest.
“I didn’t survive, asshole. I died. My death was undone by an act of time manipulation. If you had bothered to listen to me, instead of selling out our entire people…”
“Yes, our people. And no, I didn’t sell them out,” Darius interrupted. “I negotiated for their protection. Warmaster Vlanchek has been bound by the Hamanaxa, he will be unable to break his word. We are spared.”
“But they haven’t won. Wouldn’t you rather put your considerable talents into stopping them?” She realized he was gradually making his way toward the exit.
Oh no, you’re not getting away, you worm! She thought angrily.
“They haven’t won, yet,” he replied. “You haven’t seen it. I have. They rule the galaxy, crushing any resistance, enslaving entire planets with complete impunity. The Consortium can’t stop them, no one can. The super-weapon only speeds up their timetable, it doesn’t alter the outcome.”
“But how could you give them victory? Why not…” she was interrupted as he threw a chair at her and dashed for the exit.
She dodged, sprinting for him, diving and tackling him bodily. They both crashed to the floor. Landing hard on
her knee she winced in pain. He scrambled to disentangle himself from her, but she grasped him tightly. Working her way closer, she grabbed his wrist and twisted, turning the shoulder and then straightening the elbow.
Darius stopped struggling and she relaxed slightly. But it was all he needed to slip out of her hold. He wrenched free and began to stand. She grabbed his leg and heaved, sending him crashing back to the floor. Delivering a vicious kick to her face, he broke free from her grasp again.
She scrambled up, ignoring the pain, the fear, the threat of death. She focused on one thing. Ending Darius.
He feinted toward the exit, then charged her, fists swinging wildly. She put up her arms to block, trying to cover her face as Kyren had taught her. But his assault was vicious and she took several hits, staggering her back.
Darius used the opportunity to make another attempt at the door. She shook off her disorientation and bounded after him, landing a flying tackle on his back, driving him to the floor mere inches from the door. Remembering Kyren’s lesson, she scrambled up his back as he was trying to rise, hand reaching for the door’s control panel.
Slipping her arm around his neck, she cinched the other behind his head, locking onto her other wrist. She wrapped her legs around his torso as he struggled, his hands grasping at her face as she tightened her grip by arching her body.
He thrashed around, attempting to dislodge her, clawing at her arms and face to no avail. She constricted further and held tighter, body trembling with exertion. He strained for the door panel one last time before he started thrashing wildly, desperately struggling to escape her grasp.
But she held tight, every ounce of will put into her muscles. Then the thrashing began to subside, moments later it had stopped entirely. She held on for a long minute, making sure he wasn’t still moving. She checked his pulse. Or lack thereof. Darius was dead.